


Forlorn

by AriTheFishMaster



Series: I have *depression* [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Reality, Depression, Everyone Is Gay, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Other, everybody do be sad tho, i dont know where im going with this, implied trauma, insert tag here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriTheFishMaster/pseuds/AriTheFishMaster
Summary: Honestly I'm not too sure where I'm going with this, but it did start off as an assignment for class.The main character is plagued with depression and has nobody else but Them.The main character doesn't even know who "They" is.. but why question when you have nobody else.
Series: I have *depression* [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056389
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Forlorn

**Author's Note:**

> This did start off as an assignment for class but I liked where it was going. I will be editing as I go along and the first chapter may be better than the rest because I had people there to help edit it since it did start of as an assignment that was worth a lot of points.

My chest is heaving, falling up and down rapidly. I was asleep a minute ago, what’s wrong? I don’t know what’s wrong. Was it a dream? A nightmare? I can’t get my thoughts in order. What was I dreaming about? This is hard, calming down after a nighttime panic attack. Throwing my head back, I focus on slowing my breath and sorting my thoughts in mental file cabinets. It’s all slowly coming back, but only in bits and pieces.

The blood running down my arm pools in my palm, only to raise and evaporate into the air. Isn’t it strange seeing that? I will never be able to get used to this feeling. I’m not home but I’m sitting in my bathroom. I don’t feel anything but this ever-growing hole in my chest. It’s not quite loneliness, but it’s so empty while feeling full of dirty cotton.

That feeling has been growing recently, but that growth has slowed since meeting Them. They make everything feel a tad bit better, it's not much but that’s better than nothing since it eases this burden a little. I forgot what it was like having somebody, more so.. something, to be there during some of the roughest nights.

Sometimes they’re tangible, but that’s only when they want to be. I’m not sure how to describe them, but I can try. You know that feeling where you’re alone in a room, but there’s a lingering feeling that somebody is there? That ever-growing feeling of fear that slowly overtakes you despite knowing for a fact that you’re alone? That’s what they look like at times. When they decide to take on a more of a humanoid form, they manifest as something you find beautiful. It makes the fear go away a little bit. I see the familiarity of a past lover, but it’s not quite right. I see them having symmetrical dark hazel eyes, but the kind of hazel where they look brown unless you’re looking closely. Their skin is so smooth too, it’s similar to looking at a perfect portrait. Their face looks so perfect that it looks fake.</p

It’s difficult to describe what their nose looks like. It’s not quite a button nose, but it’s more sharp than soft. They did a good job of choosing their nose. It’s one of their most human-looking features. Their lips now… do you know who Chris Evans is? They’re a lot like his.

Their features are very androgynous. I’ve asked them once what they were, male or female, in which they replied with a simple “nothing.” It was hard to grasp at first but after a while, it was easier to understand.

Touching them feels strange, they feel what pale looks like. They’re so strangely cold, but in a way where it feels like they’re barely alive. They’re terrifying in a comfortable way.  
I don’t know what they are, but I’m too scared to find out. Ignorance is bliss. They come and go when they please. It’s even the cliché cloud of smoke when they leave. I wish I knew where they went, but I have a feeling that they never truly leave at times. They’re with me wherever I go. That feeling is kind of comfortable.

Recently they’ve been here for me more often, but I’ve also been rather distressed. There’s nothing, in particular, that’s distressing. If I think of a way to tell you what it’s like, it’s like snow. Some days it's a soft build-up, but as of late it’s been thick snowflakes quickly covering the ground. It’s covering much faster than I can shovel. They might be here to help me clear this path. I don’t know where this path leads to, but as long as I’m with them I don’t mind too much.

Sometimes we sit in my room and talk for hours on end. It’s like a sleepover. I didn’t get stuff like that very often while growing up, but I also don’t remember much growing up. I do remember vague feelings though. When your chest is full, but not in a happy way. It’s full of water and you can’t let it spill because it will flood and ruin everything else, and the last thing you want to do is ruin everything else when it’s already a mess.

I think as of late some old memories are coming up. They’re not always memories though, it’s the sensations that I felt in that moment in time. I think I would rather keep them buried for now. Maybe I will revisit them later, but I sense that it’s overwhelming right now. I don’t think I can handle that quite yet.

Am I truly home or am I stuck somewhere else? I ask them, but they don’t answer. Their silence only raises more questions. Come to think of it, I haven’t left this small apartment in a while. I can’t name a set time, but that’s mostly because my days blend together to create a haze I have yet to escape.

“Do you think I’ll get rid of this feeling?” The words roll out of my mouth before I stop I can stop them.

“What feeling are you talking about?” They tilt their head, some of their dark hair falling into their face. Their voice sounds like the words you think before you say them. The voice that differs from your own, but you hear it as yours.

“It’s like, longing for something you’ll never get back, or for something you never had in the beginning. It’s like a hole in your chest that’s growing and you’re desperately trying to fill it and all you have is stringy cotton, so it’ll never be full but that’s as close as you’re going to get it.”

They looked up at me with a sad smile. “Do you want to get rid of it? Because that’s the biggest factor in this.”

I never really thought about that. Do I want to get rid of it? I’ve had it for so long that if I don’t have that feeling, I may feel nothing at all. Let’s not think about this right now. My friend is here and they kind of replace that feeling.

They reach their hand out to me, their palm facing upwards. It’s like they’re asking for something, but no words are said. They maintain eye contact with me and their expression softens. The expression they’re making makes it look like they’re finishing a story with a bittersweet ending. It’s not quite sad, but it’s not happy.

I look down at their hand and slowly place my own in their grasp. “What’s your name?”

They pulled me out of my seated position and into their arms. They’re quiet, but not the uncomfortable silence. I can tell they’re choosing their next words wisely. “Well, what name do you think I have?”

“I’m not sure really. When I think about you I just think about you as ‘They.’ I can’t really imagine you having a name.” I have my back to them, but my head is tilted back and towards their face, resting my head on their shoulder so I can look at some of their facial features. Some of their features are so sharp. Their jawline is one anybody would envy, one that would be so hard to get for yourself.

They rest their cheek on my forehead, “then I will go by ‘They,’ ‘Them,’ ‘Theirs,’ until you come up with something you like.”

So they were nameless this entire time. I’m not sure what I expected to come from them. I wonder if they’re truly nameless or if they just want to give me the creative freedom of choosing something as important as that.

We just sit there for a while. The silent company is more than what I can ask for. The hole feels so much smaller than usual. Is it because they’re here? It must be, I don’t have the overbearing sense of loneliness.

Sometimes I forget they’re not human. My chest is rising and falling in a rhythmic motion, while theirs hasn’t moved at all unless they’re sucking in a breath to talk.

They take a breath in, “well since you asked my name I feel obligated to ask you yours. What’s your name?” They take one of my hands into theirs and fiddle with each finger. It’s as if they’re studying the movement and how it moves. I feel like their personal anatomy dummy. Come to think of it, they do change their appearance ever so slightly each time I see them, they’re looking more human.

I open my mouth to tell them my name, but there’s a problem. Nothing is coming to mind. Why can’t I remember my name? I go to speak a name, but I draw a blank. I can feel the name there, but it’s so far away from me. “It’s uh, I know it, just give me a second.”

Should I come up with something on the fly? Every name that I think of it doesn’t sound quite right. Alex? No, that doesn’t sound right. Payton? No, that’s not right either. I feel like I’m getting closer. Cain sounds close, but that’s not it.

I suppose they saw me thinking hard on this. Why would somebody think so hard after being asked their name? “Hey turn around and face me real quick. I have an idea,” there’s a small smile on their face.

I turn around and sit cross-legged with them on my bedroom floor. Our knees are touching each other. With both their hands, they touched the tips of their digits with mine. Slowly, they brought our hands up in front of us, our palms now touching. Why are they so cold, it’s like I’m touching glass on a winter day.

“You’re precious, I hope you know that. You may not see it, but I know it.” They pulled back one of their hands, the other still touching mine. With their palm displayed upward, gold dust seems to appear coming from the palm of their hand. The gold attaches itself to each other, slowly creating an object. I see leaves forming and slowly connecting and turning upwards. It’s a crown it seems. The leaves turn up on both sides and connect to a metallic red bird with its wings spread wide.

Both of their hands occupy the crown, and they place it softly on my head. I don’t say anything and watch them do it. I wonder what is going on.

“To me you’re royalty. One day you will rule over the worlds. Hopefully, you can rule over that mind of yours as well. For now, I will call you Phoenix. One day, you too, will rise from the ashes and start your life anew.” With that, they place their hands on my cheeks and place a kiss on my forehead. That kiss is the warmest feeling I’ve ever had.


End file.
